


These are Little Wonders

by softkestrel



Category: The Winner's Trilogy - Marie Rutkoski
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12780057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softkestrel/pseuds/softkestrel
Summary: Kestrel and Arin knew of houses, of big ornamental things meant for sleeping and living. They knew of places, filled with people and moments created within them. Sanctuaries were rare in their world, places to call their own and feel the joy of inside and outside. But, the word took on many meanings with the beauty of new promises and stillness of eventual peace. When they felt the rarity of it fade away, they saw it everywhere.a story set some time after the winner's kiss!





	These are Little Wonders

Kestrel and Arin knew of houses, of big ornamental things meant for sleeping and living. They knew of places, filled with people and moments created within them. Some people were faceless after so many years. Others were etched into the mind so deeply it was hard to escape them, even in dreams. Places marked with blood and snow found their way into sleep as well. 

Sanctuaries were rare in their world, places to call their own and feel the joy of inside and outside. It was childish to envision, Kestrel thought in between war talks and strategic meetings. She wondered often if Arin thought the same. But, the word took on many meanings with the beauty of new promises and stillness of eventual peace. When they felt the rarity of it fade away, they saw it everywhere.

A sanctuary grew from healing. 

The grass outside the villa grew taller and looked greener to the eye. Arin’s old lashing scars and the line across his face didn’t leave their once bitter taste when he grazed over them with his fingertips. He saw hispeople smile and welcome and build from all that was stolen, cherishing the hearthnut harvest and trading more than just favors they upheld so dearly years ago. 

Javelin, aged and understandably slower, never wavered under Kestrel’s hands and rode without fear. The steps she took to visit her father didn’t feel as long, and she didn’t buckle or sob when she came from another meeting filled with nothing but her questions and accompanying silence. 

After so long, small words grew to sentences, and there was prospect in somewhere she believed no hope lived. That hope that almost felt unimaginable challenged Kestrel to write to one she thought of as family once. Even if she never wrote back, Kestrel knew to try was a greater reward, one she cherished. 

And incredibly, the two saw each other, knowing no words in either language they knew could grasp what they had created. Amidst all that was once seemed impossible, they were there together.

A sanctuary weaved itself from stories. 

The fog around Kestrel’s older memories never vanished, not completely, but she remembered to write the images down when they came. They might have been fuzzy, but she trusted what her words and the strokes of her ivory pen would tell her. The gods Enai spoke of when she bandaged Kestrel’s knees, the old piano sheets she tucked away when she did not care to train or fight, Arin’s kitchen and attempting to bake pastries...promises she had him fully. For all she had lost, there were lines of thread to unfurl and find again. 

In turn, Arin traded the parts Kestrel had found for stories of his own. His mother’s kisses and father’s hands on his shoulders before they left for aristocratic parties. Anireh’s fingers nudging into his head as a signal to braid her hair. Sarsine’s once softer eyes as he read old poetry books by the water. Even more, Arin named his hundred gods and all their purposes when they lay in bed together, his thumb rubbing softly against the outside of Kestrel’s arm. No matter if she couldn’t remember them all tomorrow, there was always time for him to tell them again.

A sanctuary came when old friends sailed home. 

Roshar spoke highly of his travels, petting the side of his grown tiger’s stomach as he did. The animal grew to like Arin, his owner’s closest ally and originally unlikely namesake. Arin admitted to himself when seeing the familiar ship pull into the harbor that a friend in his world would have been a faraway wish once. He could envision himself wishing in the cells he slept in, younger and still hopeful, but he wouldn’t dwell on it. Welcoming a friend into his arms and feeling Kestrel only steps away made the unfulfilled dreams from another time fade into the clouds above the dock. 

Sarsine also journeyed here and there on official business, and she didn’t hide her amusement at how tight the pair held her when she arrived back in Herran. Her eyes became weaker with tears with each goodbye that would eventually bring her home again, and her smile was warmer after every arrival. 

Kestrel didn’t need to see the bonds between herself and Sarsine to know they would always be untested by the waters her friend sailed on. Arin could see, for all the distance between himself and Roshar, they wouldn’t perish. Even Risha and Verex sent their best in letters of their well wishes when they could not find time to sail. Bonds that had formed in their extraordinary ways proved to bring the deepest sense of home.

A sanctuary bloomed from fashioned rings. 

The ceremony was quiet and perfectly small. It was just welcome to their four friends, and set inside the second-story gardens that once belonged to Arin’s parents. Kestrel wore a gown, white and accented by the color of faint champagne, according to Sarsine’s unexpected request. Once the time came, Arin was unfurling his happiness across the ground near the potted plants of the garden, colored to match the palette his cousin selected.

Roshar almost let himself choke on a cry when his two friends joined hands, whispering words and glances bathed in love underneath the speech he wrote on his journey to the celebration. The exchange of rings was quick, but the words prepared by Kestrel and Arin were not. They were both unique, individual promises and swears, but the two shared a future where hope and love weren’t tokens of a game. They lived in that future without exception, and that was the promise Arin made when he swore his soul was Kestrel’s. With no hesitation, Kestrel vowed the same.

A sanctuary rested in the smile of their first-born, curls bouncing around as she waded through the fields and picked flowers for her mother to inspect and press to her cheek. 

The softness of the petals revealed the pink in Kestrel’s cheekbones, so light it almost reminded her of the wind on the fields overlooking the villa. The child ran on her legs, still chubby even after five name-days, when she saw the horses peek their heads out of their stables. She watched Kestrel’s hands move against the keys of the old piano, too entranced to notice the song her mother was playing. 

Kestrel wondered how the gods favored her enough to wish this fortune on herself and Arin, knowing it would never have come if she chose a different path. Or if the gods kept her on it to fool her into hoping for more. It was rapture knowing her more had become her present.

Arin was never far away from either of them. No matter if he sat by idly pressing a hand to Kestrel, mainly on the curve of her stomach, or had his arms wrapped around the frame of his daughter, he couldn’t shake the smile from his lips. He saw his mother’s quiet comfort in the child’s hands against Arin’s scar, one he would tell her about in time. He saw Anireh and Sarsine in her eyes, wild and green and full of interest in a world bigger than herself. If he had known his bloodshed and grief would bloom into the sight of the young girl playing in the flowers, he would still pray for them both.

The families Arin and Kestrel both lost planted something new in their places. While it was easy to feel that loss and recognize the names it took, the two found something that kept them safe from any more harm. 

It mirrored the very word Arin had known nothing of until his life reached for more than contempt and bled into hope. A word Kestrel had once never felt the touch of until she saw it permeate into every corner of her heart: sanctuary.

Sanctuaries were rare in their world once. Now, they were in beautiful abundance.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a story for my favorites for a long time, and I cannot believe if took a reread to spark new inspiration. That being said, I really love this a lot and I’m sorry if it might feel a little out of world or out of character! I’m rereading now and I had the idea for this set aside so long ago. Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it, and let me know if you want to see more maybe!


End file.
